


Lick the Wounds

by Unusual_Raccoon



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Also sorry my summary sucks, Barely any Mia Smoak, F/M, Hand Jobs, Laurel being tender with Oliver, Like I'm not even tagging her as a character, Minor Anatoly Knyazev, Minor William Clayton (Arrow), My take on s08e5: Prochnost, Sort of PWP, lauriver - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23056570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unusual_Raccoon/pseuds/Unusual_Raccoon
Summary: Oliver gets double crossed by the Bratva while in Russia and Laurel is determined to get him back.
Relationships: Earth-2 Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Lick the Wounds

She was going to kill him…

Oliver Queen was an unbelievable, reckless idiot with no regard for how his own well being might influence others and she was going to kill him...after she saved him of course.

First Oliver had ignored her concerns about getting into a cage with that goliath prized fighting dog that belonged to the Bratva, now he had stricken her with fear at his disappearance. It was obvious that the Bratva had double crossed them, swept Oliver and his clueless daughter away to some excruciating death.

Laurel paced across the carpeted floor in the main room of Anatoly’s bar, she chewed her thumbnail nervously as she waited for William to locate his father. The young man tapped away at a tablet, brow furrowed in a way that reminded her of his father...his father. Just the thought of Oliver was enough to make her headspin, on one hand she worried, so worried, because the Bratva, the damned Russian mob was a very real threat, one that scared Laurel far more than she cared to admit.

Oliver had informed her of his fate, his suicide mission to save the universe or something like it. Of course it mattered to her, because it mattered to him, but a part of Laurel couldn’t help but shut down at the thought of losing Oliver...again. 

She brushed off the thought, trying to focus on the task at hand. Dying to save the universe was so abstract and unreal, it was also seemingly unavoidable. Dying at the hands of the Russian mob, though...fingers broken, teeth missing, skin bubbled with blackened electrical burns...that was terrifyingly real, but it was unlike the former this was something she could save him from.

Laurel paced again, back and forth behind William. She only ceased her linear path when Anatoly complained that she was dirtying his carpet. People were talking, but she couldn’t really focus on the words, not when all she could think about was Oliver.

It was the worry that twisted into anger, it burned her up from the inside out. Anger turned to determination when William exclaimed in excitement that he found Oliver’s location. They knew where he was, now it was just a matter of getting to him.

Laurel didn’t know if the mob could be anymore cliche with their poorly lit hallways and guards posted at every corner like a checkpoint. They were getting warmer, Anatoly seemed to agree.

Ducking beneath the butt of a gun aimed at her face, Laurel struck at a guard’s unprotected flank quickly, disarming him before expertly pulling him into a nonlethal hold. She squeezed her arm around the man’s thick neck, beyond tempted to just snap the fragile bone there and be done with it, but she didn’t. The man struggled as she cut off his supply of oxygen, his protests becoming weaker before he stopped moving all together. She shoved his limp form to the ground, blowing a loose white blonde curl out of her face before continuing down the hall.

They encountered another cluster of goons, ones which she and Anatoly dealt with quickly. Laurel spun out of the grasp of one man as she tripped another to fall gracelessly to the ground. They toppled like dominoes with each blow she delivered. Thankfully that group hadn’t been armed with guns, just big heaving fists that they were too clumsy to use properly.

“They should be here.” Anatoly said gesturing to the door at the end of the corridor, a sheen of sweat glinting on his pale skin as his grip on his pistol tightened. The two exchanged a nod as Laurel inhaled a deep breath, air filling her lungs.

Laurel let loose her breath in a devastating sonic cry that tore the metal door from its hinges with a  _ screech _ . The door came crashing to the ground and Laurel was rushing through the vacant doorway. Adrenaline kept the tidal wave of fear at bay as her gaze landed on Oliver, standing... _ alive _ .

Laurel felt her breath leave her in a relieved sigh, one which Oliver mirrored at the sight of her. Her eyes blurred with tears and a confusing cocktail of emotions soon followed, anger, delight, fear,  _ arousal _ . It took everything in her not to jump his bones at the mere sight of him, but the ever present audience of his daughter and Anatoly were made all the more obvious in that moment.

Laurel fidgeted, holding her breath as they exited the compound. Sure, she had wanted to kill Oliver earlier, metaphorically, but now...well, she had other plans to convey how much she had missed him.

\--

Oliver gave some lame excuse about needing some rest that both his children seemed to stomach without any further inquiry. It was only once they were behind closed doors that Laurel pounced on him.

Her arms were around his neck pulling him in for a kiss that he heartily returned, her fingers sank into his hair, holding him close.

“I should be mad at you.” She hissed against his lips, her lips latching onto the skin of his neck when he tilted his head up in offering.

“I’m sorry.” Oliver mumbled, allowing his body to be malleable beneath her hands. His meager apology twisted into a pretty moan as she kissed and licked his neck.

“I was mad; so fucking mad.” She growled, dragging her teeth against the skin before smoothing her tongue over the texture of his beard. Oliver shivered, his eyelids were heavy like he was falling asleep, but Laurel knew it couldn’t be farther from the truth, he was soaking up each sensation.

“Now?” He asked breathlessly, arching into Laurel’s hands that had since pushed beneath his shirt and stroked softly over his skin.

“Now,” Laurel echoed back, “I’m just happy I have you back.”

Laurel walked them back towards the bed, Oliver fell back onto it without question, staring up at her adoringly. Despite her fervor, Laurel was slow and gentle as she helped Oliver out of his clothes. She sank down to her knees to unlace his boots first and removed his socks. She rose back up to her full height, carefully undoing his belt and his fly before slowly lowering the fabric of Oliver’s pants until they well to the floor. His shirt went next, encouraging his arms up and slowly pulling the garment off like he was made of glass. His underwear was what remained and Oliver shivered as her nails softly stroked over his thighs as Laurel gently pulled the last remaining scrap of clothing off.

Laurel studied him for a moment, her eyes raking over the old, now familiar scars and the hard muscle she had become accustomed to. She took a moment to disrobe, not taking nearly as much time with her own clothing as she did with Oliver’s. Her body rippled with goosebumps as the cold air kissed her exposed flesh. She watched as Oliver sat up, propping himself up on his elbows. His eyes taking on an almost hazy quality as he stared at her.

She waited a moment, hands stubbornly by her sides as he stared at her unabashedly. She would give him the opportunity to drink her in, as she had done with him only moments prior. His eyes followed the trails of old scars she had acquired throughout the years. His gaze sweeping over the taut skin and lean muscle. Vigilantism didn’t leave one particularly  _ supple _ .

Crawling on the bed beside him, Laurel exhaled a pleased sound as she pulled him into her arms. Oliver didn’t protest her leading, in fact he went where she wanted him to go, his head pillowed against her breasts as she clutched him in a desperate hold. Managing to get herself against the headboard, Laurel pulled Oliver’s weight against her chest. His head lolled back against her shoulder and her lips pressed soft kisses to his cheek.

Tenderly stroking a hand down his chest, Oliver shivered against her, exhaling a deep sigh as her hand moved lower. Eventually her palm resided at the juncture of his thighs, his erect cock stood thick and proud, the flared slit at the tip weeping precum, begging for affection. Oliver hissed out a moan as her hand wrapped around the throbbing warm flesh. Her thumb came up gently to use some of his liquid arousal as lubricant. Slowly she began pumping her fist up and down his shaft, twisting her wrist each time as she sank down to the root. Her every breath washed over his exposed skin as she continued to stroke him.

Oliver’s breath left in a shaky exhale as Laurel fluctuated the firmness of her grip. Her hold would be iron clad as she jerked his cock around the base, before loosening into a gentle circle as she approached the sensitive head. She rubbed her now wet palm in slow teasing circled around the pretty pink head of his cock.

“Laurel.” Oliver gasped, legs spread and vulnerable as she sucked his earlobe between her warm lips. Her tongue teased the shell of his ear as she tugged his cock in long, deliberate strokes.

“Shh…” She murmured in his ear, kissing his neck for good measure as she kept pleasuring him. Oliver was slumped against her, the muscles of his stomach drawing taut with each brush of her forearm against his skin. Sweat was gathering between their skin, but neither of them were bothered by it.

Oliver twitched in surprise as her free hand slipped beneath the gap under his arm to stroke fondly over his chest. Her fingers traced the scars there and teasingly twirled over his nipples. He made a gentle, desperate keening sound the more she touched him. Laurel varied her pace stroking him slightly, the drags of her palm became faster and harder, her fingers teasing his nipples pinched teasingly at the sensitive buds, and her kisses on his neck grew hotter and wet.

It wasn’t long until he came with a moan, his face scrunched up in a grimace of pure bliss and Laurel loved it. His release was hot and sticky where it spilled over her knuckles. She gave another gentle stroke, smiling when his hips followed the motion and another gentle gush of cum spilled onto her hand.

Oliver was panting, head tilted back and eyes screwed shut. He licked his dry lips, nostrils flaring as he tried to steady his breathing and Laurel couldn’t help but smile at the sight. There he was so thoroughly undone, so open and vulnerable…

Laurel stroked her clean hand over his quivering stomach as Oliver’s breathing began to slow.

“I wasn’t just mad...I was scared, Ollie.” Laurel whispered and she knew by the way his forehead creased and his throat bobbed that he was still very much awake.

“I was scared because I love you.” She whispered with none of the usual snark that would accompany her words, in a similar manner they were both vulnerable; like wolves showing their bellies to one another.

Oliver trembled at the words, a groan leaving him though it sounded pained, like the knowledge itself was something he couldn’t handle. Laurel felt her throat grow tight as she held him. She flinched when she felt his hand find hers, his touch was solid and firm as he pressed a kiss to her bruised knuckles. It was only as Oliver’s hand encircled her own that Laurel recognized the ugly bluish bruising around his thumb...he had dislocated them again.

He was an idiot with zero knowledge of self preservation, but he was her idiot and she would protect him for as long as she possibly could, whether that be from the Russian mob, space god’s and the collapse of the universe, or from himself...

Laurel was sure Oliver was drifting off, the events of the day likely having caught up to him, though she was proven wrong when he whispered six simple words.

“I love you, Dinah Laurel Lance.”

**Author's Note:**

> So originally when I thought this idea up it was pure feel good smut, but somehow over the course of writing it the feelings I wanted this fic to have changed. Still, hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
